


Votum, Come

by Cicironi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU where clint doesn't have a random family no one aside natash knew of, AU where natasha and bruce never had a relationship that was shoved in out of no where, AU where spiderman joined the avengers as a teen, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide Attempt, Multi, OFC - Freeform, abuse recovery, all over recovery, basically fixing shit from AOU that should have never happened the way it did, i'm gonna torture y'all so much, i've got a huge idea and I can't wait to write it all, mentions of abuse, mentions of depression, slow build relationship, tony would be a great dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicironi/pseuds/Cicironi
Summary: **UPDATING EVERY SUNDAY**White walls. White tile floors. White LED lights. White lamps pointing in every direction. Glass wall- mirror on one side and a window on the other. Sterile.His eyes hastily scan over the page and chokes- with a heavy voice dripping with horror, he almost whispered..."She’s just a girl.”“You think I don’t know that?"





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> eyo, so this really is just a free form, i have some ideas for it, but otherwise, i got no idea, so don't worry, reader, we're BOTH figuring this out together xD i hope you like it, leave some kudos and comments please, especially if you notice something wrong like a plot hole or one of Marvel's characters is really out of character or something. so yuuuup thank you!!!

_White walls. White tile floors. White LED lights. White lamps pointing in every direction. Glass wall- mirror on one side and a window on the other._ **_Sterile_ ** _. White hospital bed in the sterile room. Shiny, reflective medical tool stand. An equally shiny, reflective EKG, barely changing screen. A girl laying on the bed, red trickling from her everywhere. No color to her face, just the red and making a sticky, damp mess of her hair. Sweat all over her. She clings to life. Her lungs cling to oxygen. Breath out, breath in. Never again. Maybe?_

 

_“How could this happen to someone so young?”_

 

_“Who the hell would do this?”_

 

_“Do you think she’ll ever recover?”_

 

_“Why her?”_

_“Why?”_

 

_A man enters the room in handcuffs. The two guards he stands between do not try to hide their weapons. His feet glide like an eel in water. Each step shifts his raven hair. He towers over the girl. His face wears disgust, but his cracked eyes cry sympathy. He asks the guards, without words, to uncuff him. They look at each other and use the key to release his raw wrists. The tender, red lines slowly disintegrate to pale skin. His hands hover above her face. As his hands cover from head to toe, the red stops pouring from her tender, scarred flesh. He repeats this again, repairing the damaged skin. One more time, but he fails to completely remove the scars. He steps back, hold out his wrists, and the cuffs are put back on him. He turns his back, takes a few steps, and takes one last look of her. His heart twitches. He knows._

 

* * *

 

A clock on the other side of the window ticks, each second taking an hour to go by. Six people stand, staring at the girl on the bed. Each mind runs its own course over its own personal issues, yet in the end, all connect to the girl- maybe because of the stains of blood on her young skin, or how the cross engraved on her chest reflects the one she wears around her neck, or how she looks to be merely asleep.

 

Tony picks up a yellow file. He pulls out a collection of papers and began reading off the first page, “Crystal Amor Magus Bird: sixteen, half native american, half irish canadian, a junior at Peridot High School. A part of her school theatre, creative writing club, and was pushing for a school bakery in partner of their restaurant.”

 

“Jesus…” a mutter slipped from the back of the table.

 

Tony glances upward, then continues off the paper, “A good student, made A’s and B’s, all AP classes. There was a time she took Ritalin and maintained grades above 95’s, but only stayed on it for a year. She seems to have struggled in chemistry, algebra, and geometry, but the teachers she had were fired the year after she took said classes. Her teachers described her as “off in her own world”. She struggled with depression, anxiety, paranoia, insomnia, night terrors, sleep paralysis, and a million other sleep disorders. Home life was mostly kept secret, but there are years of records of family therapy and marriage counseling,” he flips the page and opens his mouth to talk, but his jaw drops. His eyes hastily scan over the page and chokes- with a heavy voice dripping with horror, he almost whispered, “Found in her room close to death, covered in her own blood. Wounds and seminal fluids found on and in her body prove she was raped, beaten, and cut with a knife by her father and brother, who both fled the scene. Her mother beat her to the point of damaging bone, and believed to be the reason Crystal was found unconscious. Her hair was cut off and found spread around her bedroom. Four pets in the house were found killed. All her personal items and clothes were found torn or broken, aside from a laptop, journal, and stuffed animal beneath her bed.” He closes the file and drops it on the table, then takes a shuddered breath and walks to the other side of the room. The air is sucked from everyone, leaving a heavy weight burdening the atmosphere and every person’s chest. A silence deafens the group, leaving no one wanting to speak. Finally, the question which bothered them the most was asked:

 

“Out of all people, what makes her special to S.H.I.E.L.D?”

 

At first, no one answers, but finally, Tony fills the silence, “A visible aura was found emitting from her body. When local paramedics tried to pick her up, a ball of energy shot them across the room. No one died, but when it was reported, S.H.E.I.L.D. took interest. They had to inject her with a tranquilizer and lift her with a sheet. It’s taken a while, but her body has calmed down enough and she no longer emits the aura or energy ball. We’re waiting until she’s conscience and healed to begin running tests.”

 

“Wait, you’re telling me after everything this girl’s been through, we’re just going to stuff her with needles and experiment on her?” Clint barks out. His veins pop out of his skin and fire rages in his eyes- he seethes rage.

 

“You know damn well why, she could be a threat.” Natasha retorts. Despite the harsh words, it feels as though she had to force each syllable out. Another weight is put on everyone- the unspoken truth has finally been spoken.

 

Tony, leaning against a cabinet far away from everyone else, aides Natasha, “Exactly. We won’t “stuff her” with needles, but we’ll help her with her recovery and do routine tests to make sure she hasn’t gone nuts. If she’s fine, we’ll start looking into whatever powers she has and decide what to do from there.”

Thor, who’s been sitting in the same contemplating position since Tony opened the file, finally slowly growls in  a voice almost impossible to hear, “You want her as a weapon.”

 

“No, we want her to not be a threat,” Tony counters.

 

“No, you want her powers and to control her.”

 

“Have you ever thought about what she might have? What if she’s more powerful than all of us, but she turns batshit crazy? We can’t know anything until she wakes up.”  
  
“And when will that be? Before or after S.H.E.I.L.D. tries to take her power? She’s just a girl.”

 

“You think I don’t know that? I know she’s a kid, but one with power we don’t know anything about, who already has serious mental issues, and just went through hell. We don’t know anything about her except some basic facts- we can’t let our emotions get in the way. She could destroy all of us.”

 

Again, silence. Only to be broken with:

 

**_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep-beep-beep-beep BeepBeepBeepBeep_ **

 

* * *

 

 

The light is so bright, I can’t open my eyes...

 

_What’s wrong with my head, it’s so heavy…_

 

I can’t move my body, all of it is numb. My arms. My legs. My mind is numb. I can’t turn my head, it takes a century to get the motivation to even attempt. Yet, despite the invisible molasses coating my body, my heart runs a marathon. There’s no reason, maybe it’s trying to run away from my body, sucking away all my energy. Maybe since my body can’t move, everything goes to my heart. It twitches. The only part of me I can recognize as myself is my twinging heart. The only part of me I can think about is my body. Otherwise, it’s only fog. All I feel in my mind is the dense fog weighing my head down. Do I want to move? Maybe not. My skin itches: it wants me to move. But I cannot. My muscles aren’t tightened, my joints aren’t locked, but my mind isn’t ready to be awakened. The light blinding my closed eyes start to fade, but then I hear:

 

“Hello, Crystal, my name is Phil Coulson- I’m here to help take care of you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did I fall asleep again? All I remember is a man who spoke to me… Phil… Coulson…? Where am I?

Once again, I see a light, although slightly less blinding.

 

_Did I fall asleep again? All I remember is a man who spoke to me… Phil… Coulson…? Where am I?_

 

My eyelids don’t feel nearly as heavy this time around, and I realize, neither does the rest of my body. Every second that goes by, I realize that the molasses that once coated my body is now sheer pain. I can’t even move- my eyes squint and my facial muscles twist and contort before I scream out. My eyelids shoot away from themselves and all I can see is shrieking white everywhere. Whether it’s the newly forming tears or because I’ve been asleep for God knows how long, it takes a few moments for everything to come into focus, and I realize I must be in some sort of hospital. _Why would I be in a hospital-_

_…_

_…_

_…_

_Oh._

 

A wellness starts in my front lobe and quickly expands to my whole head- the disgust of even remembering my memories force me to shove everything to the back of my clogged head, which forces a sob to the front. It shoves itself through my eyes and toxic liquid streams down my face, and I choke harder, building up more and more by the second. With my face thoroughly soaked in burning hot tears and my core completely worn out, I take a deep breath and try to regain control of myself. Just as I start calming down, a huge lump travels from my stomach, through my throat, and I realize it’s about to come out of my mouth, so I whip my head to my left and let it spew. I try to imagine that toxins leave with it, but just the idea forces out more. Once all of my previous meal leaves me, I drag my head back to its previous position, but when I glance down, I realize that my right arm and left foot are in a cast.

 

_At least I’m getting healed… But by who?_

 

It hits me, and I try to call for Mr.Coulson, but I can barely crack out a hoarse “Fff”.

 

I try again, and I fail again. I close my eyes in defeat, but I feel a coarse hand slide beneath my head and raise me up. I open my eyes, and I’m greeted with a somewhat balding man with chocolate eyes and a kind smile. He puts a cool, slick glass to my cracked lips, and I engulf the water so quick, I nearly choke. Mr.Coulson sits me up all the way, and with a shaking hand, I grab the glass and down it. I turn back to him and extend it, but when I try to say thank you, still nothing comes out. He gives me a smile and takes the glass, then refills it with ice cold water with a white pitcher that was perched on a white table on my right. He hands it back to me, and I gulp it down just as quickly as before. Instead of waiting for him to refill the glass for me, thirst drives me to just grab the pitcher and drink straight from it. Each gulp relieves a new patch of my dry throat- a new bit of life seeps into my soul when I finally finish. Embarrassment crawls over my skin when I realize how I must have just acted, so I gently set the pitcher down, face the wall, and fold in on myself. For comfort, Mr.Coulson sits down on my right and mirrors me: legs, crossed, swinging over the edge of the hospital bed, hands in lap.

 

Although I’m utterly embarrassed, I perc my head up and turn to him, managing to croak out, “I’m really sorry, that must have looked really gross. Thank you…”

 

He gives me another kind, reassuring smile. I feel like I should fear him, but there’s something he puts off that fills me with warmth. Mr.Coulson softly says, “You don’t need to apologize, you’ve been out for a while, you’re thirsty, it’s ok.”

 

He puts a hand on my shoulder, and I jolt so hard I nearly come off the table...

 

_His hand grips down on my shoulder. His hot breath beats down on me as he ties the gag around, then the wrist restraints. He jerks me around, then hits my head with a candlestick. I’m almost knocked out, but by the sounds of my clothes ripping and the sudden coldness, I wake right back up. He takes out a knife and starts carving across my skin, “like a turkey on thanksgiving,” he growls in my ear. His knife digs down on my bare chest and he recreates the cross I wear around my neck. I try to scream, but the gag keeps me from making much noise. I try to crawl away, but he pulls me to the edge of my bed. He pries my legs apart and…_

 

My head rips back and forth, trying to shake out all the horrors my mind is forcing me to re-play. I feel another burning hot bulge in my stomach, but because I just emptied my stomach, I'm physically unable to relieve myself any more. Instead, the heat from my stomach spreads to my body, forcing my muscles to double over to escape the horrid images flashing across my brain. Not even a squeak can escape me, fearing any other movement may force the feeling of their skin on mine again.

 

Mr.Coulson immediately jerks away and apologizes profusely, briefly snatching my mind away from itself. I try to mutter “it's ok,” but only hot air comes out. He stands up and leaves momentarily, but before if I can decide if I want him back or not, he brings back a soft, black blanket and drapes it over me, making sure not to touch any of my skin. All I can do is look up at him and try to thank him with my eyes, but he whispers in a tender voice, “You're more than welcome.” We sit in a heavy silence, but not in discomfort or awkwardness- just accepting the weight of my situation. I don’t know where I am or what will happen to me, and I have a million questions that I can’t ask because I can barely speak. I am absolutely in no control of my life at the moment and I don’t know when I will again. A storm of repressed depression and despair looms over my soul and drops my head to my lap- my translucent arms droop across my beaten legs, not a single scar gone unnoticed. Across my left wrist and down my forearm, I can still almost clearly read my list of homework- there doesn’t appear to be any more bloodstains on me, so either the nurses gave up around the time they got to my arms, or I have a really good pen. I miss my pen.

 

“I know you must have plenty of questions. I’m sure as time goes on, you’ll think of more, so how about I get you a pad of paper and a pen, and anytime you think of a question, you can write it down. Then, whenever you feel you’re ready for the answer, I’ll tell you. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

 

I nod my head. _That actually sounds fan-fucking-tastic. Has he done this before?_

 

“Alright, miss, I’ll be right back.”

 

I can’t help but to smile when Mr.Coulson says “Miss,” it reminds of when my Aunt used to call me Missy Lou. I never understood why she’d call me Lou, until one day I found out she always wanted a daughter named Louise. It was strange and a bit off-putting at the moment, but remembering those times now bring a happiness to my heart. The flower that grows in my heart wilts quicker than Europe in the Plague as that happiness is replaced with homesickness, then is altogether destroyed when I realize I don’t have a home. Where I am right now- this sterile, white room- is the closest thing I have to a home.

 

_Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. This bed is comfy, Mr.Coulson is nice. They’re treating me for my injuries. Then again, I haven’t been awake for that long…_

 

Mr.Coulson comes back in the room with a paper pad, pen, and cough drops. He walks and sits next to me and hands me the items. I pop a green apple cough drop into my mouth and look at the pen. _Are you kidding me? A black gel ink ball pin? Fuck yeah._ A smile creeps onto my face. I flash a _thank you_ smile to him and stare at the paper. I’m not sure what to write… Clicking the pen repeatedly, I try to think of what questions to write aside from the obvious. _Maybe if I just start writing, stuff will come to me._

 

I grasp the pen and start writing:

 

_Who are you? Who do you work for? Where am I? What kind of hospital is this? Who found me? How did I get here? Where did my family go? What’s going to happen to me? Did anyone grab any of my stuff or am I without anything? Do you know my name? How much of me do you know? What’s going to happen to me going to school? Where am I going to live? What day is it? What am I supposed to do while I’m here? What are you guys going do to me? What can I do? How can I trust you?_

 

I drop my pen to the bed below me and rest the paper between Mr.Coulson and I. He reaches down and taps it slightly to read it easier. I follow his eyes as he reads through the paper, and he takes a long breath before he finally answers.

 

“Well, I can’t explaining all of answers at the moment because you don’t know enough to understand. I promise you, you will eventually have all your answers, but I’ll answer the ones I can for now, ok?” I nod, slightly unsatisfied, “My name is Phil Coulson, you can call me Phil if you want. I work for a section of the government that deal with special people. You’re in a hospital that’s watched over by my bosses to make sure nothing bad happens. It was by luck you were found, actually- your neighbors saw your family flee, so they checked in to make sure everything was ok, but when they the house the way it was, they called the police. They found you and paramedics came. Something happened and we were sworn in, and we carried you out in a helicopter. Your family has been detained and are being held for questioning. We’re going to make you better, as best as we can. You’ll be here for a while healing, and we’ll run different tests to make sure nothing goes wrong. Most of your possessions were destroyed, but we found a laptop, journal, and a stuffed animal under your bed. Your name is Crystal Amor Magus Bird. We have all of your records, but that’s about all we know. We’re not sure what will happen with your school studies, but we can offer you tutoring or whatever you need whenever you’re ready. We don’t know much about your future, but today is Friday, October 13th. For now, you can’t leave this room, but you can ask for anything. You can read, listen to music, watch TV, just as long as it’s cleared. We’re just trying to make you better, we’ll be doing many physical and mental tests while you’re with us. Once we’ve cleared that you’re healthy in every way, we’ll decide what to do then. And for now, you can’t trust me- we barely know each other. You can’t trust me now, but I hope that while you’re here, you can. I know I trust you. Sound good?”

 

I absorb all of the information like a sponge with water. Not knowing what else to say, I just mutter, “Ok.” He gives me another warm smile and stands up off the bed.

 

“I'll leave you alone with your thoughts if you want. Do you want anything? A book? You just have to ask.”

 

“A book.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“Fantasy.”

 

“I'll be right back.”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

_What am I doing? Why am I ok with this?_

 

I stand up and walk around, limping on my boot. The most I’ve seen so far was the ceiling and wall in front of me. I limp around from wall to wall- each one as plain as the next. When I get to the wall perpendicular to my bed, however, the surface is less grainy and more slick- looking closely, it even has a bit of a shine to it. _What the fuck is this? Why’s only_ this _wall different?_ Noting my observation, I keep walking. On the wall behind the head of my bed, a white wooden door stands propped open. I peel it open, revealing a clean, white bathroom. On the far side is a shower/ bath, next to it a white toilet, and across a white sink. _Everything is so white, so sterile._ I stand in front of the white mirror and look at myself- _the only thing I haven’t lost is my acne…_ With my white hair a knotted mess and my oily face covered in grime, I take a note to take a shower later. In mid thought, the door in the main room opens and closes, saying Phil is back. I hobble out of the bathroom and plop back down on the hospital bed. He does the same and holds out a thick, worn book. The scent of aged wood penetrates the air and a colorful portrait of a girl fighting a man on a pirate ship stands faded on the cover.

 

_The Hidden Cove_

 

A smile creeps on my face and Phil laughs, saying, “Anytime I was sick or hurt as a child, I would read this book until I got better again. Maybe it could do the same for you.” He smiles, and I gingerly take the old book from his hand. Studying the cover, I, subconsciously, pick at my hair, failing to untangle the matted mess wrapped and twisted between each strand. Phil notices my discomfort, so he goes to the bathroom and pulls out fresh, white clothes from the cabinet under the sink. He gingerly sets it down at my side and informs me, “There are more towels and soaps in the sink cabinet, you should take a bath, try pampering yourself. The nurses tried to clean you the best they could, but only so much could be done to your hair with sponges. I know I never have to worry about my hair, it’s always flawless.” With a swift of his hand over his bald head and a shmolder wearing his face, I nearly fall off the bed laughing- this is the first joke I’ve heard in what feels like centuries.

 

“I really appreciate all of this, thank you.” The warmth of his heart fills mine and I genuinely feel at peace.

 

His warm smile slips out, “It’s not a problem, you’re a special girl and in need, I’d be honored to help you in any way. I’ll leave you to your bath, but if at any point you need me or a nurse, just tap the wall right beside the door to the hallway.”

 

“Ok, thank you.” And with another gulp of water from the pitcher, two cough drops, the book, and clothes in clutch, I head to the bathroom. Setting my clothes on the closed toilet, I open the cabinet and pull out different kinds of shampoos, conditioners, and body washes. A giant, fluffy towel sits perched in the corner.

 

Gathering my bath supplies, I start the hot water and undress myself. The more I unveil, the more scars I notice that I never had before. The strangest and most noticeable scar is the cross dug down across my chest and above my breasts- despite the flesh and tissue just torn a couple days ago, all that remains is two jagged, white lines. I stare deeply into the mirror at the cross and try to figure out how it’s already healed, but the more I look, the more the memories of how it came creep up. Just as suddenly as _he_ happened, the train crash of memories slams into me.

 

_Hot, hot breath in the crevice of my neck. I’m awake again. My wrist bound behind me at a horrible angle, every small movement sends a sharp pain down my body. I’m so, so cold… I’m naked. My groggy, pained eyes look up and see my father parallel to me, pushing himself against me. The light shining against his knife flashes into my eyes, blinding me momentarily, but utter fear brings my sight back. His smirk against my neck forces every hair on my body to stand up, and shifting ever so slightly, he creeps the words in my ear, “Like a turkey on Thanksgiving…” He moves so his eyes bore directly into mine and pushes his left hand down on my shoulder, every bit of force making the tendons in my shoulder almost tear. With the knife in his right hand, he plunges down, but stops right before my skin, forcing me to yelp. Leaning his face in closer to mine and pushing down even harder on my shoulder, he slowly drags the knife deeply from the top of my chest to my bottom ribs. His ferocious eyes follow the knife as it carves from the top of my right breast to my left. Not even the gag can contain my screams._

 

I fall to the floor, holding my breath and grasping for breath. I scramble to the barely filled bathtub and sit, my knees folded to my chest. I rock back and forth, trying to shake out all memories. I start focusing on the hot water, how it splashes against me and keeps me warm. I start calming down, so I lay back, prop my boot up, and rest. When the bathtub is full, I turn off the water and discover different knobs. Jets. Now with the jets going and my two casted limbs out of water, I lean back and begin reading the book.

 

* * *

 

_And with a swift movement of her sword, Eddeline opened the cage and set her and her new friends free._

 

Ending on chapter 12, I close the book and realize the water has grown cold. Very cold. The goosebumps on my body demand warmer water, so I drain the tub some and refill it with piping hot water. Reaching around on the ground, I grab ahold of Warm Vanilla Sugar body wash. With the white loofah hung around the water nozzle, I cleanse my body as deeply as I can. The more I scrub, the more I think of what has made me dirty. The memories don’t stop taking control of me until I feel a burning sensation and realize I’ve nearly scrubbed a layer of skin off my leg. I pause, then gently put back the loofah and body wash. Taking one last dip, I submerge my head in the warm water before I pull myself out. I drain the tub and turn the shower part on. With my head dipped over the tub rim, I scrub my scalp clean with shampoo and slather my hair with conditioner. When all the soaps are washed out, I grab around for the towel behind me. Drying my hair and body, I slip on new undergarments, white, baggy sweatpants, and a crisp, white t-shirt. I pile the old towel and medical gown in a corner then go to the sink. _Hopefully there’s a comb in here so I can fix my damn hair._

 

In one of the drawers lies a comb, mini washcloths, and different bars of soap. I grab the comb first and manage to get it through my wet, tangled hair. After ten minutes and a ball of hair left in the comb, my hair is untangled once again. As I put away the comb, I realize that one of the bars of soap is for the face. Looking up in the mirror and seeing a soggy, acne filled, oily face staring back, I immediately scrub my face with soap and a washcloth until it feels as if my pores have been stripped. Dipping the cloth in cold water under the sink faucet, I pat my skin to close my pores and use a different cloth to pat it dry.

 

Feeling clean, I take _The Hidden Cove_ and go back to my “bed.” As I lay down to read it, I realize how tired I am. _I guess I’m still trying to recover…_

 

I set the book down next to the nearly empty pitcher of water and rest my head on the pillow. Ideas of what adventures Eddeline will face next fill my head, making it heavy enough to close my eyes and nearly bring me to sleep. My eyes flutter open and the only thing that comes to mind is _I’ll be better soon._ With that, the dark void of exhaustion overflows my body and mind until I’m completely asleep.


	3. 3

_He leans over her exhausted, sleeping body. His icy cold hands exert warm light that forces her hairs to stand on end. As his magic mends the bones in her foot back together, her face twists and contorts. Ignoring her, he continues his job until her body jolts and begins to flail. Sweat-drenched arms fly through the air, followed by her frantic cries. There's no way it could be from him, it's impossible. The guards, unknowing of his full power, attempt to pull him back, but his feet stay connected to the floor as if made of concrete. He watches as the girl squirms, waiting for her to stop so he can complete his duty, but her eyes fling open. Wide eyed and convulsing, her terror skyrockets when she sees the strong, powerful man loom over her. She tries to scramble away, but with a flick of his wrist, her body becomes a cage she has no control over. She's locked in place. He strides closer to her, only whimpers tumbling between her cracked lips, and, once again, holds his heavy hands over her foot. The warm light spreads a soft, tingling sensation that mends her bones. When the light finally vanishes, he flicks his hand once again and the cast is gone. He watches as her eyes dart between her healed foot and his sharp, pale face- his lips curl on end as he makes his way from the foot of the bed to the top, right by her face. He begins using the same magic to heal her right hand, but his focus isn’t in the task- it’s in her face. He studies her, putting together pieces and clues. Young human girls were always the most entertaining._

 

So, so cold. This otherworldly man’s breath nips the tip of my nose as he stares at me. _Who is this man? Is he even a man, or something else? Is this magic, or the government’s advanced science? Is this what Coulson meant when he said they would “heal” me? What’s his name?_

 

Locked in his emerald eyes, I try desperately attempt to look away so I can watch what is happening to my wrist, but I can’t. We study each others eyes, trying to learn more about each other. I can’t understand what’s happening, but before I realize it, my body is released from it’s trance and I drop. He steps away from me a walks towards the door, handcuffs appearing around his wrists and guards on either side, but before he reaches the door, he turns around to study me one more time. Chills rack my spine and to the stem of my brain. My eyes study him for as long as possible until he disappears through the door. Immediately, I grab hold of the necklace hanging around my neck and pray to God that what was performed on me was not witchcraft… and that I may learn, too.

 

Although the spell is no longer cast on me, my bent elbows propping me up stay frozen in place, unlike my chest jumping up and down with every exhilarated pant. Still replaying the last event, I don’t notice when Coulson rushes in until he shouts my name.

 

“Crystal-”

 

“Call me Crys.”

 

He pauses, caught off track, probably from both my wide smile and the energy beaming from me.

 

“Are you-”

 

“Who was that?”

 

His face still shows shock and he still stands in the same position, whereas my excitement and curiosity scratch closer and closer by the second.

 

“He works for us…”

 

“Well I gathered that much,” I jest, grinning stupidly, “But who was he? What did he do, was it magic or science or what? That was amazing, he just froze me in place and he healed my damn arm and leg, look!”

I start twisting my wrist and elbow and rolling my ankle, getting more excited by the moment. _This is amazing, I want to learn whatever he just did as soon as I possibly can._

 

“Was he the one who healed the rest of my body, too?”

 

“Yes, he was, his name is Loki, he's one of the workers here. He does a lot more than healing special people, Crys, and I can't tell you much more than that right now.” Coulson states, and by the tone of is voice, sounds like he's trying to -patiently- shut me up and calm me down for five seconds. He walks closer to me and we both sit up right on the hospital bed- he's wearing his classic Coulson grin.

 

“I have to say, I'm relieved that you're feeling better-”

 

“Oh definitely, all thanks to you and Loki-”

 

“But just to be sure you're totally ok, we're going to have to run a few tests.” My heart drops. _What kind of tests?_

 

“Excuse me, what?” My eyes bulge out of my head and my heart beats faster. _Better not be any needles, I fucking hate needles…_

 

He notices my anxiety building up and tries to comfort me, “It’s nothing bad, they'll be the same kind of tests I had to take a while back after my, um, incident…”

 

_What incident?_

 

“It's nothing to bad, just same scannings and questions to see how you're doing physically and emotionally. If I can do it, you'll be able to without a problem.” He finished with his smile, and I can't help but to feel a bit better with his words. _But when will I have to go?_

 

I know it's probably a bitter subject, but I have to ask him about his “incident”. “Hey Coulson… what did you mean by your “incident”?”

 

As soon as the words tumble out of my mouth, his face drops and he scrambles to put a happy face back on. After a sharp inhale, he stutters out, “A while back on a mission, I was a bit too confident in trapping an adversary, and I was shot with a very dangerous weapon. I was legally dead for a while, but they fixed my broken parts and ran some tests to make sure I was ok, and here I am.”

 

A grimace wears his face for a brief moment before flashing back to normal. _I couldn’t ever imagine… What’s it like being dead? I wanna ask, but he doesn’t look ok…_

 

Before I can think of a way to respond, he perks up and pops in, “You can have my word, it wasn’t too bad. Now, the appointment is in half an hour, so I’ll leave you be. I’m glad to see you’re doing better.” He graces me with another one of his smiles, and I smile back. _He is such a good person, I hate knowing he went through all of that, I couldn’t imagine what that’d be like…_

 

He gets up to leave, but before he reaches the door, I turn my head over my shoulder and call out-

 

“Hey, Coulson?”

 

He stops and turns around, a question mark riddling his face.

 

“Thank you, for everything.” Sincerity drips from my mouth with every heavy word, and it spreads to him, infecting him with a positive glow. _He knows I mean it._ And with a smile, he leaves my small, white room. _I might as well take a shower, get the rest of this grime off…_

 

I kick myself off the bed and head to the bathroom once again. After fishing through the cabinet under the sink and digging out new clothes, toiletries, and a towel, I turn the shower onto hot and undress myself. Once the water’s hot enough, I step in and stand as the steam beats against my skin- with the water rolling down my body and achy muscles I didn’t realize I had now, I start thinking of Loki again.

 

_There’s no way man could create what he did, that had to have been magic, it can’t be anything else. Magic is real… holy shit, does that mean Harry Potter’s real?_

 

As excitement and ideas fly through my head, I realized I still haven’t actually washed my hair and my appointment is soon- I grab the shampoo and scrub my head with it, douse my hair in conditioner, then scrub my body clean with the loofah and body wash. I go turn around so I may dip my head back and wash out the soaps, but when I do, I see my dad standing before me in the shower. He was gone just as quickly as he was there, but it was enough to through me off balance and have the force of gravity to pull me down. The left part of my head hits the bath nozzle and I cry out in pain.With my head throbbing, I look down: no blood. _Thank you, God…_

 

Regaining myself, I quickly rinse all the soaps off of myself and turn the shower off, wrapping the towel around myself. As soon as my feet meet the soft shower mat on the ground below, my head clears itself and I remember where I am- a safe place. _I’m ok, Coulson said he’s been taken care of. Coulson wouldn’t lie about that. I’m safe._

 

With the fluffy white towel, I pat myself dry then warm myself with the soft clothing left for me under the cabinet. _It’s only been about fifteen minutes since Coulson’s left, I could probably do my hair so I look half decent…_ My hand reaches for the drawer with the comb and I search for a hairdryer to find a small one in the other drawer- _Lucky me._ The white comb deknotts my hair to make it silky smooth, and the drier caresses my starch white hair with it’s hot air. I stare at myself in the mirror, mindlessly blowing the whiteness in all directions:

 

_“I wish I had your hair, it’s so long and smooth and beautiful…” She whispers in my hair. Sweet and sour, her voice is. Bittersweet. She dries my hair with the noisy black hair dryer and combs through it, so tenderly at first, until she hits a knot. Her face twinges. She rips right through it, yanking my head back, forcing a cry out. She growls deeply, “If you did regular deep conditioning and took care of your hair I wouldn’t have to do shit like that, next time I’m cutting it all off.” I sit up straight and look into the mirror, staring mindlessly while she blows the whiteness in all directions. She lays the styling brush at the top of my forehead and wrap my bangs around it. She takes the hairdryer and places it right above the brush, immediately heating the metal brush. The longer it sits there, the more it burns- I wince and try to cover the pain, but she yells, “I wouldn’t have to do this if you learned how to fix your own hair, you’re not fucking three, do it right next time.” She keeps it there and I choke on my sobs, and she doesn’t stop until my burnt flesh thickens the air. She takes the dryer and brush off then slams it on the counter, nearly breaking them. She looks at the flat iron already heated up, combs my hair again, then in a sickly sweet grin and voice she whispers, “It already looks beautiful, we don’t need to iron it again today, do we? I wish I had your hair...”_

 

Burning.I smell something burning. I’ve left the dryer in one place for too long. _It’s dry enough._ I turn it off and set it aside to cool before combing my hair again. _Is it still there…?_ I lift up my bangs and a thick white mark receding past my hairline pops out on my light caramel skin. _Mom… she’s gone, too…_

 

A knocking comes from the door and fear jolts through my body.

 

“Hey Crys, it’s Coulson, just letting you know we have to leave in a few minutes, but if you’re still getting ready, that’s ok.”

 

_She’s gone, too. That’s what Coulson said. And Coulson’s here now. I’m getting ready to go make sure I’m ok. I’m standing in a bathroom and I’m safe. I’m safe._

“Yeah, I’ll be there in just a second!” I call out. I open the mirror to find different kinds of vitamins, hair ties, and makeup. I grab ahold of the mascara, eyebrow pencil, and lip balm and throw it on, then put on deodorant and leave the room.

 

Coulson is waiting by the door for me and when he sees me, he smiles and jokes, “Wow, you look even better than before, before you know it, you’ll be climbing Everest.” _What the hell does that even mean?_ I crack up laughing and, for some reason, I can’t stop. “I knew I should’ve been a comedian, but I didn’t know I was that funny. Come on, let’s go.”

 

I catch up to him and we walk through the door- I expect to see empty whiteness, as my room, but instead I see nice stone floors, cream paneled walls, and busy people hustling about. A gag catches inside of my throat and I have to gasp, _It’s been so long since I’ve seen so many people._ Coulson raises his left arm and places it gently on my back, nudging me ahead. This time, I don’t flinch: a warmness flows from my heart and to the rest of me, _happiness._ I step ahead and cut my way through the flow of people to the other side of the hallway, Coulson behind me and guiding me through the twists and turns of the long hallway. At first, the people going by didn’t seem to notice me, but now their eyes bore deeply inside the back of my head. I try not to look, but everyone’s glances and whispers start driving me over the edge.

 

_“Is that her?”_

 

_“I thought she was dead.”_

 

_“Did you hear what her father did?”_

 

_“It’s a shame how scarred her skin is.”_

 

Right before my frustration bubbles over into sobs, Coulson stops my walking right outside a glass door. Windows down the hallway allow me see inside the white lab, with white marble floors and white walls and white equipment. A man stands tinkering with some objects, his dark curly hair and scruff, his purple button up, and his black pants popping out of the sterile whiteness. Coulson leads me inside and to the man in the purple shirt, who, with his hand sticking out awkwardly, says in a greets kind voice, “Hi there, I’m Dr.Banner, and you’re Crystal Bird, correct? Nice name, by the way.”

 

I take his hand and shake it, smiling, “Thanks, you can call me Crys.”

 

He motions me towards a table he has set up and talks to me while we walk, “We’ll just do a few simple things, taking a blood sample is going to be the most painful part, but of course, those don’t hurt much. Then we’ll scan you and see how your organs and bones are recovering, see if there’s anything we need to mend.”

I prop up on the bed and he goes to a nearby table to grab a needle and sterilizer, “And of course, after your, uh, _incident,_ we’re expecting you to be upset in ways you can’t really understand, so we’re going to try to help you through it.” _Sorry, what?_

 

I jolt at his last few words, my energy forcing me up straight. Banner and Coulson both notice and Coulson moves closer to me, sitting on the bed by my side.

 

“What you mean to say is you’re gonna check to see if my body’s ok after Loki voodooed some shit all over me, then you want to play psychiatrist?” I growl defensively. _There’s no way I’m going over what happened. I’m safe, I’m fine, I don’t need this bullshit._

 

Anger and fear start bubbling over in sobs and Coulson pulls me closer to him. His warmth and soft words vibrating through my temple start to calm me down, but then Banner sits down on my other side and whispers softly, “Hey it’s ok, we’re not trying to do anything to hurt you, we’re just trying to make sure you’re healthy all around so we can get you back to feeling the best you can, ok?” His words sooth more than what I would’ve imagined, and I cool off completely. “I’m just gonna take a sample of your blood so we can test it and see if it comes out clean of any diseases,” _like an STD from dad,_ “Or anything, then we’ll scan you and go from there, sound good?” I nod my head in agreement, _That was so stupid, why did I burst out like that? It was so rude, I’m not three…_

 

Banner takes the sterilizer and spreads it around my inner elbow before slowly sliding the needle inside my vein. I wince, but recover quickly- my guilt, however, doesn’t, forcing me to stutter out, “I’m so-I’m so sorry, that was so rude and uncalled for, I should be thankful for what you guys are doing for me. I’m not sure why y’all are, but I’m thankful, nonetheless.”

 

Banner slides off the table and crouches down just below my chin and makes eye contact with me. The lights bounce off his square classes and his voice quakes a bit.

 

“Hey,” he whispers, taking my hands on my lap, “You're ok, you don't have to apologize, it takes a strong person to apologize for something as small as that in an emotional crisis. You're a good girl, Crys, and we're going to keep you safe, I promise, ok?”

 

Coulson agrees with him and I sniffle, nodding and muttering an “ok” through a slowly developing grin. They both start nodding and laughing too before Banner stands up and goes to a nearby computer; he drops the blood onto a pétri dish before looking at it through a microscope, then sliding it into part of the computer. While the computer runs the test, he calls from over his shoulder, “Everything seems fine so far, no abnormalities.” After a moment, the computer screen flickers slower and slower until finally freezes onto a single set of data. Banner studies it a moment before closing out of it and walking towards me again.

 

“Aside from a slight iron deficiency, your blood’s as clean as it can be. Now let's get you over to our scanner over here and make sure everything else is ok.” He motions for me to follow him, and so I do, cold feet on the marble towards the other side of the open room until I see what looks like a giant CAT scan, but bigger. White LED lights emits through the slick, white tube reflecting off the floor.

 

“I promise you it's not as scary as it looks,” he jokes, “Just lay down until we tell you you're good to get up again, sound good?”

 

I nod, laying down on the cool, white porcelain. The bed slides my back inside of the giant tube and I close my eyes, the dark twinginess of anxiety bulging it's way up from my lower abdomen. The sweat from my palms start dripping down my arms, and I don't know why I'm so afraid, but I am, and there's was nothing to do until Banner said to stop.

 

The whining of the machine echoes throughout my body before before a final red layer of light covers me. Banner’s call told me I was done and the bed below me started shifting outward, escaping me from the white tunnel. Banner’s arm sat me up straight before he and Coulson walked to another computer, this one attached to the machine. _I wonder if there’s anything wrong? Nothing Loki can't fix, I'm sure. I should be fine._

 

“Alright,” Banner announces, “Your diaphragm is backwards and your gallbladder is a bit bruised, but otherwise you're completely ready.”

 

I smirk, “Wow, I’m good aren’t I?” I earn smiles from the men.

 

“It’s alright,” I continue, “It’s always been backwards, part of the reason I’m out of shape. Well, not out of shape, blob is still a shape.”

 

Even though it was meant to be a joke, the atmosphere thickens and neither laugh. If that wasn’t obvious enough. _Hahah I love making things absolutely awkward and putting kind strangers in socially difficult situations for no reason whatsoever other than I have no social intelligence._

 

To cover up, I stutter out, “To be honest, I don’t think the human body has an actual shape.” _What the fuck, Cryse._ “Ya know, you don’t see anyone walking down the street looking like a square, or… uh… a triangle…” _Just stop. Stop talking. Stop._

 

“I’d be concerned if I did see anyone like that, so you’re not wrong _._ We can flip it easily, just a means of muscle therapy, it shouldn’t take too long. We’re nearly done, just need to test your strength and endurance, then we can start checking your brain, making sure you're ok there, too.”

 

_Well, can't be too hard, can't be nearly as bad as the damn Fitnessgram Pacer Test…_

 

* * *

 

_Holy fuck I want to die._

 

_It's so much worse._

 

The only reason I haven't passed over dead is because of this damn oxygen tube going down my throat since I haven't had my diaphragm flipped yet, which means this treadmill is still trying to murder me. I've been going 3mph for 30 minutes without stop. This may be easy to someone with great physical health but the most running I do is from my classroom to the cafeteria. My thighs are red because they started chafing ten minutes in from all the sweat. This continues for another ten minutes before the monitor (connected to me by wires and sticky patches) started beeping rapidly, in which Bruce’s voice, which I never thought I'd ever love so much, says I can step off. When I do, I nearly collapse, and I have to clutch onto the Death Machine. I stumble over to the corner and grab my white water bottle and squirt it in my mouth, then down my neck. The monitor’s beeping slows down.

 

“Alright, are you ready to start with the weights?”

 

_Fuck no._

 

I take back what I said about his voice.

 

* * *

 

_I look like I just stepped out of Hawaiian Falls but I smell like the sea._

 

“Ok, that's it for today, you can step into that door on the left there and shower off. There are clothes and towels in the cabinet. When you're ready, just step through the door you originally came through.”

 

_Finally, enjoying that voice again._

 

Thankfully, the water from the shower rolls off the stench of my sweat and the towel I use for my body dry is soft enough to not murder me.

 

_I'm pissed._

 

Aching from head to toe, I waddle out in new, crisp grey sweatpants and a white tshirt, completely giving up on my hair ever looking ok again. When I step through the door back into the lab, a bed similar to the one in my room, with the exception that this one is sitting up, is in the middle of the room with all sorts of wires and tubes attached, all of which running to different equipment and computers. Although the sight is horrifying, I try not to wimp out again and I confidently (but inside, shakingly) stride to the bed and plop myself down.

 

Banner, while messing with the computer, explains, “I know this looks like a lot, but none of it will go in your skin, no needles today. Some of it is just to check your vitals running and monitored, but the rest is to watch and record your brainwaves, hormone spikes, changing energy levels, etc. so we can see how you respond to different stimuli. In short, just to see how your brain reacts and how it makes you feel.”

 

I know this is supposed to be comforting, but I roll my head over and look at Coulson, who gives me an assuring smile, and then I start feeling better. Banner attaches different patches to me and lowers what looks like a fancy bowl over my head, then starts working on the computer again. The patches are sticky as hell and the bowl thing has a funky smell to it, but I try to relax and just grip the sides of the bed for support. I can't see anything under the rim of whatever is on my head except for a thin sliver of white light and a whirring starts circulating around, and within, the bowl. Through the noise, I hardly hear Banner make out:

 

“Just close your eyes and relax, I'll begin playing different images and clips. Don't be afraid to react.”

 

_Not that it'll matter, you'll already know what’s happening in my head._

 

* * *

 

“How exactly is this going to help?” Coulson asks, edging towards Crys in defense.

 

“Well,” Banner begins, “I’m flashing different images infront of her and her reactions to the images are recorded so we can see her different trigger points, and if anything happens with the, uh, energy thing, then we can see what caused it, then maybe we could see how to prevent it.”  
  
Puffing his chest, not because of anger but rather curiosity and slight fear, Coulson steps forward and asks, “You can’t actually be trying to get the energy out of her like this, are? That’s a huge risk, Fury isn’t letting this pass, is he? What are you going to do if she reacts how you want?”

Banner raises his hands in defense and takes a deep breath before cooly letting out, “I’m not trying anything other than learning her triggers: what makes her happy, sad, angry, nostalgic, more as a way to know how to treat her in the future, and if the _thing_ just so happens to come out, then we’ll know what caused it. I’m not trying anything like that here, you should know me better than that, Coulson. Is everything ok?”

 

He steps back, eyes dropping to and scattering around the floor, and stutters, “Y-yes, I’m fine.” His eyes roll around a bit more and he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his blue suit before his gaze rolls up again and he sighs, compromising, “I don’t know, I guess at this point in my life, I always thought I’d already have a family, but all I have is S.H.E.I.L.D and it’s too late for me to have kids and I don’t know… I guess since Crys is just so young and she needs help, she needs a father, a friend, I want to be there for her, give her what I need. I don’t have any kids to do that for and she has no parents to provide for her.”

 

Banner folds his hands into his lap and exhales, letting out, “You know you can’t get attached, she’s a threat.”

 

“Aren’t we all?”

 

 

My eyes flutter open and the helmet thing lifts off my head.

 

“Rise and shine.” Says one of the men, whoever it is, I can’t tell, my brain feels so fuzzy…

 

“How are you feeling?” I’m asked, I _think_ by Coulson.

 

“I… I’m fine, I think.” _This is weird, I can’t remember anything that happened, I only remember the thing going over my head and Dr.Banner- I think?- saying something to me._

 

“Don’t worry if you can’t remember what you just did, all I did was flash different images, but the process of collecting data usually puts a pause on parts of the limbic system of your brain. I got the data I need for today, once it's analyzed we can start figuring out what to do. I'll make some calls, but I think I have enough at the moment to start you on some counseling. We have another appointment at the same time tomorrow, similar procedures as earlier, but we may do something different for your head.” Starting confident and clear and ending with mutters and incoherent noises, his face, which slowly fell into shadows and a grimace, flashed a quick smile before turning around and reopening everything on his computer. While the scientist clacks away, Coulson calls for my attention and leads me out.

 

“I’m sure you’re starving.” He states, and he’s right- I hadn’t realized it but I haven’t had solid food in days and just the thought of food makes my stomach flip. I nod aggressively and he leads me down the crazed hallways once again until we meet a giant cafeteria full of tables and bustling workers with _very_ important things to do. The second I step through the arch and into the room, easily at least fifteen stories high, a brick wall of different foods and spices and sweets slam into and stop me in my tracks. Different buffets and cafes and open restaurants color the white room; the dome ceiling looks as if it’s made of glass, but upon closer look, they’re actually screens replaying and shuffling videos of the sky and the clouds dancing, and the sun’s rays seen on the screens shine actual light into the place; even though it all looked to be on the same floor, stair cases littered throughout the room allow you to not only eat and walk on the glass platform, but go down to the lower, white tiled floor where the majority of the action is seeming to take place. A man in a dark grey suit and a blue tie bumps into me and mutters a “sorry” before hustling away with his white cup of black coffee. I hear a lite thud and when I look down, a thick, brown leather wallet is laying right where the man’s rich, black shoes were just seconds before. I pick it up and try to call the man but he doesn’t hear me, so I open the wallet and immediately meet many different ID’s, a phat stack of cash, and numerous credit cards.

 

“Tony! Tony Stark!”

 

Along with a few other bystanders, the man whips his head around, nearly knocking his sunglasses off.

 

_Why the fuck is he wearing sunglasses indoors? It’s not like he’s blind._

 

Coulson starts stuttering but by the time he actually starts warning me and telling me he’ll just drop the wallet off later, Tony is already on his way over. As he moves, the ocean of people split like the Red Sea to let him by, some even gasp when they see he’s heading my way.

 

_Am I supposed to know who he is?_

 

He strides towards me and grabs the wallet from my hands and snarkily spits, “Hope this isn’t any lighter than it was before, I’ve got cameras, hun.” _I always forget northern people retire to Texas because of how polite we are and how rude they are._ Thrown off by his obscene remark, I scoff and start backing towards Coulson. He takes a sip of his coffee and spins on his heels to turn away, but stops abruptly. Like how he turned away, he spins on his heels and faces me, his rich, bistre hair trembling from the shift, and he tips his head and lowers his sunglasses, his chocolate eyes staring me down; he scans me down and pupils blacken his eyes before he lets loose a string of curses under his breath.

 

“Shit, ok, um, listen kid, I’m in a rush and I need to go do some very important things to do, but just ignore what I just said, I’m genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, I’m just pissed right now so ignore this entire conversation, I’m so sorry, and here, take this…” He fumbles with his newly reunited wallet and something out and shoves it in my hand, still muttering different apologies. Bewildered, I just stare at Mr.Stark until he turns around to leave, but after a few steps, he does a double take and throws a strange expression from his face and his now heavy and large eyes, almost sorrowful. With guilt washed over, Tony takes another bitter sip of coffee and stalks off, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

 

I look down at my hand to see what he gave me and see a crumpled, somewhat damp, green paper; I unravel it and in my hand, my I’m-lucky-to-find-a-couple-quarters-in-my-drawer hand, is a $100 bill. _What the fuck._ I stare down at it, mind blank, my gaze drifts towards Coulson, then back towards the mystical, dyed cotton, then back to Coulson.

 

“Well, uh-hh, mmm, I-I guess you’re a hundred dollars richer, I know who I’ll have to talk to later…” He stutters, guiding me to the nearest staircase.

 

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

 

“It’s a bit late to grab the notebook, isn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

“Wow.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Anyone else I need to know about?”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Alright, all I got is time.” I take the last bite of my Chick-fil-a chicken sandwich and start on my fries. Across the white table held down with blue pipes, Coulson takes a sip of his lemonade from Rae’s Restaurant. Over the flitting people, grunts/ nods in agreement and continues.

 

*two hours later*

 

I’m back in my room messing with this weird interface system- after Coulson explained that there were a lot of different people he works with who I meet later meet, like Steve Rogers or Natasha Romanoff, and how they were all people who needed help like me and found work with the government, he took me on a little bit more of a tour, really just different office areas, where he could be found working sometimes, the different restrooms around, and different gyms and training areas. When we got back to my room, he showed me a button on my wall near the door that when pushed, opens a hologram with a lot of different buttons and settings. I haven’t discovered them all yet, but the one I pressed and am currently using opened Google Chrome and is loaded without different bookmarks already set for me. Right now, and as for now on every day for a few hours, I’m doing online tutoring. The website is interesting, it’s all set up like a game and each topic is a different classic- algebra 1 is pacman, chemistry is tetris, english literature 4 is space invaders, etc.- and it walks me through step by step with different pictures and videos, and every time I complete a “skill level” (I get through a set of lessons), I get to play a round of the corresponding video game. Originally I took a placement test to see where I needed to start, but it still varies its content so I’m always refreshed- this is better than any school I could ever dream of.

 

Hours more pass and with the help of this new hologram thing, I’m brought a dinner of teriyaki chicken, chow-mien and veggies, and a fruit bowl for dessert. Finishing up my studies for the day, I chow down on my chow-mien and reposition myself so I can be a true American and comfortably lay in bed and eat American/ Chinese takeout.

 

_Who else have I not met that’s supposedly really important and just like me? What all do I not know? What’s going on with my family?_

 

As more thoughts start bubbling in my head, my eyes gaze down and I lose focus in my noodles. The golden noodles sprinkled with different spices melt through my eyes and different ideas keep shooting through my mind.

 

_~“Did we seriously have to come here? We could have stopped at any damn McDonald’s or Bush’s on the way, why’d you wanna go to a damn Ching Chong dump like this?” Mom barks, earning defense stutters and groans from dad._

 

_“Well if you don’t like it, you shouldn’t have let me drive here!”_

 

_The server brings the hot, steaming bowls of savory and delectable food and, after a few moments, sets it on the table for us once they realized how (mostly) white and uncultured we are. After my parents scoop most of the food in their bowls, I start filling my bowl up, but before I could have my first bite of anything, mom chunks her bowl across the room and swipes mine off._

 

_“This shit isn’t cooked right, those fucking Chinamen are trying to kill us!”~_

 

_Stop, I need to stop having these thoughts-_

 

_~ “This chicken isn’t cooked right, Crys, you’re gonna give me salmonella and kill me. Is that what you want? Is that how much you hate me?” She slams her plate on the counter and cracks it, tiny flakes of the porcelain scattering across the marble._

 

_“I’m s-sorry, mom, I just wanted to make dinner for tonight because we ran out of frozen pizzas and we had some frozen chicken, I thought it was cooked all the way-”_

 

 _“Well it_ wasn’t, _you better be fucking lucky I checked this shit before hand, you’re not cooking again if this is the shit you’re up to. Do you think this is ok? That this is acceptable? It’s not, but if you tried hard enough, you’d’ve figured that out by now, but you’re too fucking lazy. How do you think you’re gonn get anywhere in life if you keep actin like this? ‘Cuz you’re not, you’re not going anywhere, you’re not doing shit. In fact, you’re grounded for the next week until you can get your shit together.”_

 

 _Tears thrust to the front of my eyes and I can’t help but stutter out, “I-I’m sorry, but all I did was not cook_ that _piece of chicken all the way, and that was supposed to be my piece anyway, but you picked it off my plate, I shouldn’t be grounded over this!”_

 

_Her fists slam down on the counter and her eyes shoot up, full of rage and hatred, throwing poisonous darts into the depths of my soul. Her body starts shaking and her dark, coffee skin turns red. I fucked up. She picks the plate up and shatters it on the ground, then stomps around and picks up each breakable item she sees and shatters them, too, one piece at a time, nearing me slowly. She starts screaming but it’s so garbled, I can’t understand anything she’s saying to me until she picks up my dinner plate and thrashes it around before finally slamming it on the kitchen tile floor. Now that she’s closer, I can finally understand the hashings:_

 

_“Your first fucking problem is your attitude, that’s what got you in this situation to begin with. You’re beautiful and you’re smart and you’re talented but you refuse to talk to me nicely! I’d bend over backwards for you and I do every damn day, but you can’t even talk to your own damn mother with respect. Well I’m tired of being treated like shit, like how your father treats me. If you can talk to your friends nicely but not me, you can’t talk to your friends- give me your phone right now!”_

 

_I grudgingly hand it over, arm trembling, and she wrenches it from me and keeps on, “Why do you act like this? You have so much potential, but you won’t do shit about it, you just want to blow my hard earned money on classes for slums to “teach you” shit you can do yourself. You’re just a fucking waste of time and energy and money. You could teach yourself how to cook, how to bake, how to write, but you just make excuses and blame it on your “ADD” and your “depression” and all your other “illnesses.” I don’t understand how you could be depressed when I give you everything you want, I do everything for you, you’re just a spoiled little bitch!”~_

 

With my eyes snapped shut and my fork mysteriously lodged in my thigh, I smash my bowl of noodles on the cart beside my bed and let it shatter; with the largest shard, I press the broken bowl against the inside of my forearm, pushing down so hard and slowly, a sweat breaks before the skin does.

 

_Spoiled little bitch,selfish whore, waste of time and energy and money…_

 

Blood draws and I start to pull the shard down.

 

_You're a good girl, Crys, and we're going to keep you safe, I promise, ok? If I can do it, you'll be able to without a problem._

 

I stop.

 

_No, keep going, finish something for once._

 

I drag another inuh and a half, taking in the sweet sting.

 

_“Hello, Crystal, my name is Phil Coulson- I’m here to help take care of you.”_

 

_Motherfucker._

 

I stop, again. I take the shard and chunk it at the wall, slide off the bed, pick up the other shards, and do the same. I throw them, piece by piece against the wall in front of me, with all my strength; when my hands are empty, the anger and desperation drop me to the ground, my arms, my only support, wrap around my worn body. Dejection and misery lap like waves in the back of my mind, full of different thoughts, the only thing I can focus on is _Somebody to Love_ by Queen playing on repeat in the back of my mind. I rock back and forth humming along. The more the waves lap, the stronger I rock, the humming into words. A warmth starts filling up my stomach and my muscles start feeling more and more electric by the second, but doesn’t at all slow my mind.

 

“Got no feel, I got no rhythm, I just keep losing my beat

I'm OK, I'm alright, I ain't gonna face no defeat, I just gotta get out of this prison cell, One day I'm gonna be free, Lord!

Find me somebody to love

Find me somebody to love

Find me somebody to love…”

 

Blinking away the tears, I stare down into my lap, but when the tears fall, I can see something in my lap. I blink a few more times, rub away the toxins, and take another look- a ball of light.

 

_Are you fucking kidding me?_

 

Exhausted, my weak limbs pass over, making the rest of me collapse.

 

_That can’t be fucking real, can it?... nah… maybe… I don’t know..._

 

I don’t know what it is- the emotional and physical exhaustion from the day, finally cutting again after I fucking arrived, this random ass light ball- but quicker than I can tell, my body becomes overwhelmed and heavy and collapses, my eyelids following suit, and I’m dragged into a very disturbed sleep...


	4. Chapter 4

“Well this is fan-fucking-tastic.”

“ _ Language.” _

All of the adult avengers sit in a horseshoe except for Tony at the very front and an absent Bruce. Behind the pacing Tony is the double sided glass where they watch the girl on her bed as if she were on TV with different nurses coming in and out and Banner with his different specialists trying to figure out the “ball of light.” 

“I don’t understand how we could have let this happened- we’ve been giving her the treatments, the therapy, the time and space she needs, how could she have just tried to kill herself? And how did Mr.Green-rage-monster or Coulson not pick up on this? Banner had her data, her charts, her damn brain waves for crying out loud, and Coulson, you’ve been her guiding figure through all this, how could you not have predicted this?”

“Well it’s not like you helped much either, Tone. “I hope you know we have security cameras.” How is it you didn’t even recognize her-”

“Wait, you threatened her, man-of-iron?”

“N-no, I didn’t  _ threaten _ her, I just-”

Coulson interjects. “She didn’t try to kill herself, by the way, she cut herself. If she tried killing herself I’m sure she would have done more than three inches. And we all know you can’t just give her whatever you think she needs and expect her to get better, it’s only been a few days since the incident.”

“Can we stop using the term “incident” like it’s nothing?”

Clint adds, “You don’t have to act like you care, we all know you’re more concerned about what she can do than Crystal herself.”

“We should all be concerned, she could blow the place up next time something happens!” The red head argues.

They all begin to argue and bicker over each other. Just as things started becoming out of hand, Tony’s phone begins buzzing. He looks down at the flickering LED screen and cuts everyone off-

“Hey gu-hey GUYS. Everyone STOP, it’s the kid! He’s calling me.”

Steve asks, “Wait, why is Peter calling? Does he have a cellphone unrelated to work?”

Tony waves him off as Steve grumbles something about kids these days having too much technology in their hands; Tony talks back and forth on the phone for a few moments, to everyone’s slight annoyance, then hangs up.

“Alright, who told the kid about our “new avenger”?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

My eyes groggily resist opening, but when they finally do, I’m still met with darkness. My heart freezes and I try to move but I’ve apparently been restrained with leather straps- I’m trapped.

“Now listen slowly _,_ ” commands a calm and gravelly voice from the dark abyss.   _What if I don’t fuckin wanna?_

“You are safe, you are no longer in harm’s way. You are in a safe place.” Comes from the voice again, and although gravelly, still runs like silk.

_ Obviously I’m fucking NOT-  _ I try to scream, but then realize a leather gag straps across my face with a ball popped in my mouth. All that comes out of my mouth are gurgles.  _ How did I not realize… _

“You are on a bed in a dark chamber and are strapped down and gagged, as you may have noticed. This is because you have tried to harm yourself. We cannot allow that. We need to give you information without any distractions or actions on your part, and when ready, we will remove the gag and you will answer our questions. This is out of everyone’s best interest. Understood?”

All fear that was striking my nerves soon leave just a soreness, but the twinge in my heart still keeps the edginess alive and I attempt to nod my head (what, am I supposed to say no?) but find resistance across my forehead.  _ Great. Fan-fucking-tastic. _

“The day you slit yourself was one week ago today. We put you in a medically-induced coma. You may have figured why- not only for your physical and mental recovery, but also because of-erm, a ball of, uh, energy. Energy that you transform in physical and visible form and use against others whether or not you realize. The day you were attacked, paramedics tried to lift you onto a gernie but, in their words, you created a sphere of light and shot everyone across the room. The government, S.H.I.E.L.D. specifically, was called in. S.H.I.E.L.D. deals with unearthly threats and people that have abilities or traits or physical abnormalities that pose a threat. Some people you may know or heard of that works for S.H.I.E.L.D. include the Avengers.”

_ Wait. _

_ Wait. _

_ … Wait. _

“We extended ourselves to them for a variety of unique reasons, but all in all, they were hurt, they were in trouble, they were scared, and they were hurting people with or without wanting to. Sound familiar?”  
_He can’t be insinuating what I’m thinking._

“If any of the Avengers tries to use their powers or skills against the population or government with evil or selfish intentions, we  _ will  _ put them down. They learned to control their abnormalities or skills and they trained and they healed, and now they do good. They’re the superheroes you know. You need to know this because you have the potential to be like them. Of course, that’s a topic for later, but during your coma we did studies and tests and discovered you have other abilities. We don’t know what they are just yet, but the brain activities and visible symptoms during them suggest you have more than just that energy. We also have different theories as to how you create that energy and how you might begin to control it. We’re not asking you to throw on some rubber suit and become a superhero, just that you try to help us help you control this.  The more control you have, the better. Just ask the Hulk, or who you know as Bruce Banner.”

_ Hold the front door. Shut the phone up. This can’t be real. The Hulk? Wait, that was THE Loki, I KNEW I recognized him from somewhere! But I can’t- I always thought I was just really spiritual? I didn’t think I had super powers? Wait, SUPERPOWERS!! I can be a superhero!!! But could I even do that? Could I take that responsibility- _

“Someone will now come in and remove your gag. Please only speak when we ask a question and you have an answer. You may talk later when instructed.” A door somewhere behind me hisses open and a light flashes through a doorway-just enough so I could see the brown leather straps, the white tank top and crooked grey sweatshirt, the grey sweatpants… and the dorito-torsoed silhouette shadow. The man moves from the door, which quickly closes and all light is gone. My skin crawls and I can feel which direction he moves to- on my right side, he approaches His breath smells of black coffee and my eyes adjust just enough to see very slight scruff on his face.

“‘Morning, miss,” His gruff voice politely and kindly introduces, “I will take this gag off of you now, the latch is behind your head, so I will need to undo the straps across your neck and forehead. Is that ok?”

I muffle “yes” and he says, “Ok” before reaching across the bed and unstrapping my neck and up. My hairs stand on end when he moves across, but not touching, me, and they lay back down when he’s moved away. This happens across my neck then my whole face. With the straps undone, he goes to lift my head, but I arch away with a sudden energy forcing me out of his way. With just enough space, he unlatches the strap and gently removes the gag from my mouth. I choke a bit and fall back against the bed.

“T-tha-ank you-u..”

“Not a problem, miss, but now I need to put the straps back on your forehead and neck. I know you don’t want me to, but these are my orders. If it hurts, please tell me, but I’m not here to hurt you.

“S-so I’ve been told a-a lot recently…”

He doesn’t respond, but instead straps me back down. I try to resist but my skin’s urge to recoil is too much and I push myself only further into the bed. Luckily the man makes the straps looser rather than tighter before. I feel him walk away and I call out a “thank you.”

“Just doing my job, miss.”

“W-What’s your name?”

The door hisses open and instead of just seeing his silhouette, I turn my head just enough in the newly loosened straps to see a six foot tall man with short, very light brown, almost blonde, hair and deep blue eyes. In his strong voice I now identify as Captain America, he says, “I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t tell you that just yet.” And he walks out with a hiss from the doors, leaving me utterly alone again.

_ Well great. Is he really that great, or is that just the way to government and media want him to look? What if I really am in danger, doesn’t that make him a willing accomplice? _

“I will now begin askin-”

A different voice, much deeper, “HEY CLINT I HAVE THE COFFEE YOU-”

“Shut uuup Tho-” He drops his voice really low and covers the mike with his hand with a static, thinking I can’t still hear them, “you need to stop, i’m on the intercom right now questioning crystal, she doesn’t know who i am.”

“my apologies, hawk-man.”

“hawkeye. how do you not know this already?”  _ Ah. Hawkeye. Neat. _

He uncovers his hand and resumes in his normal voice. “Sorry about that interruption.”

“It’s ok, Clint. Thor, I presume?”

A string of  _ shit  _ and  _ oh’s  _ later, Thor chimes in, “How are you doing, miss?”

“Ah, ya know, being tied up and questioned by the government. Not much. What about you?”

Another  _ oh  _ and Clint is back on. “Please forget all of this, now, back to the questions,”  _ Ah, yes, my favorite thing.  _ “What is the last thing you remember before you fainted?”

“Ah yes, jumping right into it I see. No questions to warm me up a bit. Got it. Ok.”

“You’re stalling.”

“Yes.”

“Answer the question when you are ready.”

I wait a few moments.  _ Well nothing feels different. I’m not ready whatsoever. Fuck it, fuck it all, right? What’s the point in something happening if you’re not gonna fucking talk about it?  _ I bury my fears and anxiety deep, deep,  _ deep  _ down and swipe on a face of false confidence.

“Ok well, um, I was eating my dinner- very good, by the way, highly recommend- when I started thinking about, um, well m-my… mm-my, erm, mom. And some of the things she would say. I t-uh-t-tr-ried to m-make it s-s-s-s-st-t-t-toppp-...” I stop and take a deep breath, covering up the holes in my mask, “And  tried to make the memories stop, but I couldn’t. The more I tried the worse it g-got and, uh, while I was really into one, I lodged my fork in my thigh, then I got angry and smashed my bowl and kept a shard, and I tried to get myself to stop again but I kept thinking of my mom and the same thing happened with the shard like with the fork, but then I got out of the memory. I still felt everything she said, as if it just happened, and I tried to get it to stop by distracting myself with a different pain, something I could control, something I could stop and fix and watch heal. Because I don’t think I ever can after her and it fucking sucks because I love her so much and I just fucking want her to fucking love me too-” Sobs pour out, I cut myself off with more. I’m met with silence except for my own heavy breathing. My chest collapses but I can’t cave into myself. With snot dripping and hot tears everywhere, I try sucking myself back in, just enough to tell them the rest. I try breathing in for seven seconds, holding for three, and exhaling for five, then repeat until my breathing is regulated and I can control myself again. Then I continue, my voice increasingly growing bitter:

“Well, uh, then I started thinking of Coulson and how nice he had been to me, and I stopped. Then I thought that he just might leave me or turn on me like everyone else and how it’s stupid to think anyone can get to know me and actually  _ like  _ me as a person. I just hated it, I hate myself. So I kept going. Somewhere in that mix I started smashing pieces of the bowl. Then I fell on the ground because I knew I was just being a little bitch and needed to grow up some because life is fucking shit and I need to stop whining before I’m thrown in the real world and left to fend for myself but can’t because I can’t deal with a little bit of rejection. Then I started crying again and I started singing a song to myself because it’s my favorite right now and I thought it could help me stop… then I saw that ball of light. I think I just wore myself out because I don’t remember anything after that.”

I’m met with silence again. It’s so deafening, I begin to hear a deep ringing noise echoing and increasing pitch and intensity the more I listen to it, but when I realize it’s not actually there, the noise just stops. Then silence again. Eventually, there’s a crackle over the mic.

“What’s your favorite song right now?”

I blow air out of my nose almost like a laugh, but filled more with receding hope. Still, I can’t help but to smile. “Somebody to Love by Queen.”

“Good choice. Look down towards your stomach.”

I do, and I’m face to face with the ball again. Clint continues talking but I don’t hear him or care- I can’t take my eyes off the orb, the way the light within dance with itself and swirls around, leaving an aura lighting my body and parts of the room. I connect with it on a deep, almost spiritual, level and it becomes an extension of my body. The world around me fades away and all I can focus on is the ball- I feel something inside of me stir and it makes the ball move too, so I start moving whatever it is inside of me and gain control of the ball. I squeeze whatever it inside and it makes the ball grow, I make myself  _ feel  _ (with no better words to describe) and it starts changing colors. The more I  _ feel _ , the deeper the color is.  Then I start thinking of different ways I want it to change and it just  _ does _ . It morphs into different shapes and sizes, but I realize that my whole body is producing the same aura as the ball. I hug the bed with my skin and breath all of the energy into me; my eyes roll back in ecstacy and I feel  _ everything  _ roll in and out of me, cleansing my spirit and everything negative from before. It rolls like waves in a sea.

“ _ Crys… Crystal…”  _ I hear in the distance.

_ As nice as this is, I still have responsibilities…. _

I open my eyes and let the energy slip out of me and away, leaving me empty- not completely hollow, however, more like a cleanse that left a nice feeling and hope in its leaving.

“Crystal, have you heard anything that I have said?”

“No.” I state, almost whimsically.

“How are you feeling?”

I lay and think. What am I feeling? Are there words to describe? Is there even a reason?

“Like I just got a detox but of every part of me, like all my raw emotions were just scrubbed away. I feel… I don’t know. Power. I feel like I have control, empowered.”

I notice that again, the door is open and light shines in; instead of one figure, though, there were a few, all of whom slowly and softly came into the room with me.

“Are you ok?” Asks Clint.

“As much as I can in my current circumstance, I believe.”

“Ok, we’ll unstrap you and begin testing our theories. Remember Crystal, this is for your own good. If at any point you want to stop, just say so, ok?”

I nod to the best of my ability and grow a warm, true smile. “I will, and I’m ready now.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY YA SO I’M LATE BUT I’M POSTING A BONUS MINI-CHAPTER TO MAKE UP BEFORE POSTING AGAIN SUNDAY  
> I’M SORRY  
> I LOVE YOU AND DEEPLY APPRECIATE YOU

_ Breath deep. Relax muscles. Connect. _

_ … _

_ … _

_ … _

_ Damnit. _

 

The room of eager scientists bore their eyes so deep into me that their excited nervousness shoots into my own nervous system and fries it- and the longer it takes, the more likely my nerves could be found at a Texan state fair. Strained, exhausted, burning. Whatever it was that I did to connect myself to Leo- the energy ball (yes I fucking named it, what else was I supposed to do?)- I can’t get myself to recreate that feeling, as if all the space in me for Leo is taken up by sweaty genius freaks. All of their own energy is taking up mine. Lava fills my stomach and seeres right through me, a sudden wave of dark anger floods my body and the steam of the clashing seas of anger and frustration builds a pressure until I burst like a balloon.

“CAN EVERYONE PLEASE  _ STOP FEELING?!” _

…

Silence.

I don’t feel anything except for myself anymore. Then bubbling disappointment and pissy-ness overflows the thirty year old virgins in lab coats and they grumble among each other, scribbling and scratching with great force on their thin papers that it shocks me none of them tore. Louder- everything louder. When they first unstrapped me for the “testing,” the lights came on and revealed I was in a square room with walls, ceilings, and floors made of metal, then the scientists poured in after Banner. I was given simple instructions to just try to connect with my energy, which I then decided to name Leo, and that’s when I realized I was basically trapped in a tin sardines can with a superhero and looser scientists (who obviously were never instructed on human interaction) lined across the walls noting and scratching my every movement. And now I’ve exploded. Why was I feeling these emotions? I don’t know. But now I’ve reacted and further escalated the situation; hatred seeps through every cell in my body, on another level that has never been experienced. Then Banner raises his hand. Absolute focus. All throughout the room. He closes his hand into a fist. Soulful silence. Not a spirit flutters.

“You may be dismissed, I’ll send a note when I need you all again.” He hushes, just above a whisper; light coffee and butterscotch lingers.

An anvil weighs down the room as each observing scientist files out- with the last one, their departure leaves an echo and it lifts the air. I can breath. Lungs expand, ribcage almost denies full access, but each breath releases a layer of tension. Then a peaceful, if not a touch disturbed, buzz harmonizes with the atmosphere.

“Are you ok?”

I breathe again. Calm. “I am now, thank you.”

Silence.

_ The scientists watch, examin, note, doing their job. They write their observation and wait to see my marvelous power. They wait to see my unknown power, to be there for a monumental discovery, possibly the birth of a new Avenger. Something to tell their kids at night to make up for being away all the time. Because of me, my power. I’m the reason they're here. I should have had more patience, they were just doing their job. _

A weight heaves down my chest. Doesn't crush it, just pulls it down to the ground, not forgetting the tears pricking my eyes.

“I-I-I’m-mmmm sor-r-r-ry… they were ju-u-ust-t-t doing their-r-r-r jo-oh-b… I shouldn't have sna-a-pped…”

My face is parallel to the ground. Part of me expects him to yell at me or scold me, but I also  _ know  _ Dr.Banner, I know he’ll probably console me and tell me it's ok and alright and all that. My heart twinges, the guilt flourishing with the clashing inner storms each passing second. I wait for the soft voice, the words of comfort.

I wait.

Wait.

Wait..

Nothing. Loaded emptiness.

I drag my hundred pound head up to the man and scan for answers,  _ Why isn’t he saying anything? He normally does, and I hardly ever get people wrong…  _ He impassively opens his lab coat and pulls out a classic black-and-white composition notebook and a black gel ink ballpoint pen.  _ Great, he even knows my impractical obsessions and I can't even read his character correctly. He probably wants me to write down my thoughts and feelings to get it out of my system or something. _

He extends the journal and pen; he'd detached. He planely orders, “Write down everything- what happened beforehand, the emotions you felt, the thoughts you had, and the actual experience- every time you've released the energy. Every time. This is highly important. When you think you can, try your ability again. Experiment with it. Write  _ everything down _ .” He draws to a stop, looks down, war glazing his eyes, and continues in a softer voice, almost atoning, “This is the best option for all of us- I know what it's like not knowing how to control an unknown and dangerous power, but unlike you, I was alone, and S.H.I.E.L.D. approached me in a much different way. I know you’re afraid, you feel responsible, stupid. But this is much bigger than you think; just know that we’re not expecting miracles from you… And please know that you’re not alone in this.”

I take the journal and pen, my outstretching arm weak but determined like a starving lion, and cradle it in my arms, allowing thoughts and emotions to fester like a shocked new mother gaping at her newborn. Dr.Banner speaks in the same atoning voice as before but I do not pay mind to him as much this time.

“They’ve changed your room,” _This is the first time he refers to_ _S.H.I.E.L.D. without referring to himself included_ , “To be a bit more suitable for you and your needs. At anypoint you want to change how it looks or what it has, you can ask Mr.Coulson how to send a request. Let me show you to your room, you can decide what you want to do from there.” I bemusedly nod, bugged with other thoughts; the real world captures me again when the door hisses and white light from the hallway reflects off the pre-lit metal room. I snap my head up and follow Dr.Banner, replaying and acknowledging his previous words, down the vacant hallway. A door far down the hall and lost around the curve silently hisses and suctions shut, echoing in the distance. There are no trampling footsteps, no busy people gossiping or rushing, no cause of overwhelming claustrophobia. Minutes pass and to the left we pass Dr.Banner’s lab, then my room on the right.

_ It’s so empty out here. I want to ask why, but I don’t want to know the answer. _

Dr.Banner taps at a symboless padlock that lights up with every press until all of the squares simultaneously light up white; he pushes down the handle (which is new) on my door but stops just before opening, and he turns to me and says, “Only a small, specially selected amount of people know the code to this door. The pad is the same as an old phone’s pad; the code is 41215.” I nod, and he pushes open the door-

_ Holy wow, they really  _ have  _ changed it.  _ The only thing that looks the same is the mirror wall and white floor, but everything else is completely different.

“As you can see, we’ve expanded the room a bit,” I walk in gaping and continues rambling happily, “We took down the wall that seperated your room from the vacant next door. I thought it may be important to keep you in a happy place that reflects what you want in life so that your mind can grow and expand and help the healing process…” He drowns out of my mind while I take everything in: my room is more than doubled in size; the floors, although still white, are covered in different long-haired, soft rugs in different colors and patterns; the walls are baby and Miami blue and grey; a  _ real  _ bed, full sized, sits in a corner next to the bathroom door, and in the center on the opposing  _ new  _ wall is a desk, swivel chair, computer, and large bookshelf; a stereo and CD rack are perched in the corner between the new wall and the wall we just walked through; different potted plants scatter the room, filling every empty corner or wall, and covering every unused display surface or shelf; filling the center of the room is a black, wrought iron-trimmed glass table surrounded by black and grey bean bags and a grey loveseat; between the different accents and figurines and wall art, the room almost resembles a Victorian/ Optimistic New Age Rock/ Environmentalist look.

“Most of our inspiration was from your Pinterest board, “Future Home Must Haves.” Unfortunately in your room we couldn’t install a two story basement pool and moat or a built-in tv for a bathtub that could comfortably fit eight people,” I can’t help it, I crack a smile, and so does he, “-but we managed to pull some ideas from your obvious preference for Victorian houses and liking of rock music.”

_ Obvious? Yeesh, I didn’t think it was  _ that  _ bad. _ He pulls out his phone and shows me my own Pinterest board- half of which is nothing but Victorian houses and gardens and decorations.

_ Ok. Maybe it is that obvious… _

He walks to my new (it doesn’t even feel right to say “my”) loveseat and I follow; he sits and I ease into the plush, lucious seat.

“I won’t keep you long, I just need to go over a few things with before I go. The first is that everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D. involved with your case is working hard to help you recover from… what happened… We know that you had other mental disorders and distresses beforehand, and we’re trying our best to help you recover and become even better after that, but in order or that to happen, you need to comply with us, even if it means we have to give you a new journal and pen to write with every time you encounter another obstacle so that you can recenter and refocus yourself. Secondly, even if you learn to control your ability, and maybe other ones, that doesn’t mean you’ll automatically become an Avenger- I heard what Clint and Thor said over the speaker, but I can guarantee you it’s not as easy or fun as you may think- in fact, unless deemed absolutely necessary, I highly suggest you avoid joining the Avengers. It carries a heavy toll and takes a lot of responsibility that, even when you do recover, you might not want to take in. Believe it or not, most of us on the team never wanted the team to exist to begin with. What I’m trying to say- j-... just don’t make decisions or expectations you may regret in the future when you’re in a better position to make them.” Solem, I nod, “Third, the device by the door to the hallway from your room is just the same as before, but now you can also do the same things on the computer so you can use the Service for other purposes instead of just tutoring. You can contact any of us on there when you need, and we’ll stop by periodically to check up on you. You can talk to Coulson about it later, but I believe you can start leaving your room unattended if you check in.” My heart races and pumps a flush into my face, and a random spasm of energy excited my nerves; my eyelids slam shut and I hop out of my seat and yelp with joy. I hopped- but I never came back down. Still phased in pleasure, I quickly glance down- I’m about two feet above the ground and surrounded in a yellow, happy aura. My heart skips a beat but with more pleasure; I yelp again and laugh as I fly up and up a-

**_*crash*_ ** right into the ceiling, then fall flat on my back with a solid crunch.

“Ah-euh-..uhhh… a-a-re you ok?”

I nod, still flat on my back like I’m making a snow angel, glowing yellow.

“I guess you can fly, too… don’t forget to write  _ everything _ down…”

I nod again, still yellow.


	6. Bonus Chapter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small dive into Peter's POV, just because I was late updating the last chapter and, between being sick, starting school, and my new job, I might be a couple hours late updating.

 

***Peter’s POV***

 

“So you’re telling me that there’s a new Avenger and they won’t even let you meet her?!” Ned LOUDLY questioned- I shushed him quiet and leaned over our lunch trays and excitedly whispered.

“YEeah! Well, not exactly, she’s not OFFICIALLY an Avenger but-”

“Is she hot?”

I slap his shoulder and laugh, but Michelle sends a disgusted look to Ned then goes back to her book, a blue one with silver lining, unlike yesterday’s. Ned yells “what?” and throws his hands up in absolute confusion. I laugh again, and Michelle puts down her book and scolds us both.

“You said she’s “under watch” because something traumatizing happened to her, right?” I nod, and for some reason Ned does too, “Then maybe they don’t want you meeting her because she’s too sensitive to be around anyone, or did you not think of that?” She shoves her face back into her book and reads, somehow aggressively.

Ned nudges me and, in a nudged whisper, points out, “I’ve never seen someone read a book like they’re trying to kill it before.”

I nod, _No kidding, it looks like she’s trying to set those pages on fire!_ “Yeah, I thought she and I were fine, but I think she’s still upset…”

Ned raises his eyebrows and makes a “surprised” face, then slaps my arm and exclaims, a little too loudly, “Yeah, not kidding!”

Michelle’s eyes dart up again and shoot daggers at us both, then slams her book closed and slings her bag over her shoulder and stomps off, pushing past two guys in letterman carrying a basketball and knocking their food trays over. They call out “bitch” and other insults and profanities, but she’s out of the lunch room before their words can even reach her. I jump up and start charging at them but Ned grabs me by my arms and yanks me back to my seat before the jocks even notice me.

“I get you guys broke up but you don’t have to be suicidal!” He scolds me.My faces squinches and I start bundling the bottom of my t-shirt, but I know he’s right- _I_ broke up with _her_. Being an Avenger, being in high school, AND being in a relationship with a girl whose father was my enemy was too much at once to handel and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship… I told her this and I thought she took it fine, but she’s been really agitated lately and I think it’s because of me…

“Hey, why don’t you call Skippy and try to get him to take you to her?”

“You mean _Happy?_ ”

“Yeah! He’d do it, right?”

I pull out my phone and start scrolling through my contacts to him, “You’re a genius, I bet he could! I’m calling him right now.”

I find “Happy” in my speed dial contact and spin on the bench seat and put the phone to my ear.

“Hi Happy, it’s Peter, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…”


	7. Chapter 7

“6:00 am: wake up, stretch and work out for an hour and a half. 7:30 am: shower and get ready for the day. 8:30 am: do yoga. 9:15 am: eat breakfast. 9:30 am: do online school. 1:30 pm: go to lunch 2:30 pm: go to therapy and physical therapy. 5:00 pm: experiment with Leo. 6/6:30 pm: dinner then free time. 9:00 pm: bed. Every. Damn. Day. I thought this would kill me at first, and it nearly did- I couldn’t fall asleep or stay asleep, waking up and trying to do anything was an absolute disaster, and I kept getting hungry and extremely emotional throughout the day, and I had a hard time bringing out Leo. I talked to Dr.Banner about this, and after a couple days, he gave me medicine for sleep and put me on birth control because of my extreme hormone spikes, uncontrollable acne, and, more noticeably, my period hit two weeks early in the middle of my physical therapy, unlike my last cycle when it was five weeks late. After the new meds, things quickly smoothed over. On that note, I looked into the mirror the other day and realized how much healthier but still unkempt I looked,so I did what I’ve wanted to do for years: I cut my lucious, white-almost-silver, “locks” off to my shoulders. That, mixed with finally tweezing my eyebrows and getting my acne under control, I’m finally starting to look like the American idealized standard of beauty!! Yaaay! Tbh I don’t care that much, it’s just nice I finally have control over my looks and I don’t have to listen to mom every day bitch about my image.

“Speaking of family, the nightmares and terrors are still awful, but now I can fall asleep right after instead of staying up. I’ve been on this schedule for two weeks now and honestly, it’s amazing. I still get triggered easily, but I can control my reactions much more. I think I’m starting to understand it wasn’t my fault- I’d like to think that I’m getting better, anyway, because I know it’s not my fault but it doesn’t _ feel _ like that all of the time. Mr.Coulson has helped me through so much of this, especially in the first week of my new schedule when he told me that my family was caught and was being put on trial. The court decides what happens today. I’m really, really scared, and I feel a bit betrayed, too- if the government and S.H.I.E.L.D. could cover up so many secrets and corruption and superheroes and weapons, why couldn’t they deal with my family themselves? Why can they keep weapons of mass destruction a secret from the rest of the government, but they couldn’t sentence my family? Why are they willing to leave it to lesser powers and I might not get the justice I need? Why would they do this to me?

“Then again, maybe it’s for the better- maybe it would draw too much attention to me if the public found out S.H.I.E.L.D. took care of this case, as “popular” as it is? It just fucking sucks… I almost don’t want to watch it go down today, they said I don’t have to be there, but I still haven’t decided… It’ll feel good to watch them get the worst punishment imaginable and they have to watch me have more power than them, but at the same time, I don’t know if Leo would come out or not… I still haven’t decided…

“I haven’t made that much progress with Leo other than gaining more control over him in hi true form and using him for flying, or, you know, creating pennies. I was eating dinner and I saw this guy try hitting on this girl with a trick where he’d have a penny and make it disappear, then pull it out from her hair behind her ear. All it was was a slight of hand, so I took a penny I found on the ground and tried it out with Mr.Coulson, but when I pulled the penny from his ear, I had _ two _ pennies. So I tried again, and I kept pulling out more pennies. Then I tried creating pennies on my own without the trick and it mostly failed, but there were a couple times I found an extra coin in my palm. Let’s just say I’m $0.17 richer. It’s a good feeling.

“I’m about to go to lunch, so I should stop writing now. Thanks for always listening to me, journal. Until later, 

~Crys B.”

I close the notebook and place it and the pen in the open drawer and shut it. I swivel around in my chair and stand up and start heading toward the door for lunch, but my Service (the thingy by my door) starts rapidly beeping: a message. The bluish hologram pops up and I use my finger to swipe to answer the message- it’s from Mr.Coulson:

“Good afternoon, Crys, I hope your day has been lovely. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make lunch, but I’m about to send a copy of my faculty badge so you can get lunch on me, it’s the least I could do. I’ll meet you at Dr.Banner’s for your evaluation before therapy and we can discourse more about the court case. Until then, Crys. P.S. don’t be afraid to get dessert or an extra smoothie!”

My heart drops and everything starts to feel heavy,  _ Damn it, lunch with Mr.Coulson is probably my favorite part of the day, who am I supposed to sit with? Am I really going to be by myself?  _ I pinch my nose and shake my head side to side, then push my shoulders back and force a twitched smiles.  _ I need to stop, he obviously has something important going on, he cares about me… yeah, sure… No-NO he does, he does!!  _ I plaster a fake smile across my face and shake out the negative thoughts. Just then, the Service started printing something out from the bottom of it and in moments, a copy of Mr.Coulson’s faculty badge fell into my palms.

“Phil Coulson, DOB: 07/08/1964, Director, Allowance: Unlimited.”

_ Yesss… _

I put his ID in my sweatpants pocket and undo the twist lock on my french handle door knob, then open the door and bright, white light and the deafening sound of stampeding workers immediately floods into my room.  _ Thank the Lord, I hate it when it’s empty…  _ Despite getting longer, more solid rest, I’m still tired, and my daily morning coffee has long worn off. I try to keep myself pumped up for the rest of the walk, but it soon turns into a trudge, making my way through the endless, curved hallways, the soaring arch, and down the glass staircase. I make my sluggish pace to the nearest Tex-mex walk up and stand, waiting in line, my eyes rolling back with every blink.

***CRASH*** comes from the other side of the cafeteria and up a level. I whip my head around and scan the area, but I find nothing, and move up in line.

_ Someone must have not gotten their skinny, fat free, gluten free, non-gmo, soy latte with the extra shot of bitch… _

Minutes pass and I finally make it up to the front and order my three chicken tacos with extra sour cream on pita bread. I swipe Coulson’s card then move out of the way for the next customer and to the empty smoothie stand next door.

Through the swirling, conjoining mix of smells, I slither through the small lunch table crowd and approach the stand with the only employee’s back to me. “Oh! Uh-erm… One large strawberry, kiwi, coconut thirst quencher, please!”

A tall, muscular man with a full beard turns around wearing a bright, lime green apron, writing something down on a pad. He nods towards the cash register and I swipe the card again.

“You’re due for a BOGO smoothie it expires today would you like to use it or let it go to waste?” He lowly grumbles without pausing between any of his words.  _ Damn, nice to see he’s so happy he’s working at a smoothie shop. I bet Mr.Coulson would like a smoothie, I should go ahead and use it. _

“Y-yeah, sure, I’ll use it…”

He grunts in approval and begins making my smoothies, and while both places work, I slide in and out of the crowds to three doors to the right to the SpacePennies Cafe. Surprisingly, they’re empty- I quickly sway up the line, almost deadass falling asleep while standing, and a preppy blonde girl who looks like she just got out of high school greets me.

“Hi there! How can I help you today?” She chimes in her high, squeaky voice.

“Oh, uh, fine… can I get a medium french press with a teaspoon of almond cream?”

She stares at me blankly with her beading, blue eyes, as if scanning my soul with her intense cameras for pupils.

“SURE! Coming RIGHT up!” She almost literally squeaks.

***CRASH*** “H-HEY KID, YOU CAN’T BE IN HERE!” a deep voice nearly screams from the other side of the cafeteria, now a floor lower.  ***CRASH* *BANG* *SHATTER*** I face the area of the noise but I  _ still  _ can’t see anything.

“S-sorry!” A high-ish male voice nervously calls from the same area as the clatter.

_ What the fuuuck? _

I slowly turn back around to the girl, mouth agape, and she gives the biggest, fakest, sickly sweet smile imaginable. Through her teeth, she grits, “Will-that-be-all, Crys?”

Stunned, I nod, unable to take my eyes off of her, and fumble around trying to swipe the card. Her eyes squint, somehow making her smile even  _ more  _  terrifying, and stares me down as she slithers to the back counter until she has to turn around to make my drink. A chill runs down my spine and forces my feet to stumble backwards; adrenaline adds a kick to my step, but then my stomach growls, angry and empty. Eyes shot open, both out of fear and stinging exhaustion, I go to the Tex-Mex place, Alberta’s, and pick up my food in a brown, greasy, delicious smelling paper bag, then to  _ Slurp’s Up _ and pick up my two smoothies in a plastic drink holder.  _ Aw, I wish they'd switch to cardboard or something- this is why Smoothie’s Way is taking over the industry and Slurp’s Up is dying… _

Juggling with my bag and drinks, I clamber for the jumbo straws, bash one side against the poor, pink counter, and pry the straws out of their plastic hell. I puncture the lid of both drinks and struggle, but manage, to throw the plastic into the recycling bin. With my giant bag and drinks, I sip and waddle back to SpacePennies, the ice-cold fruitiness drive each step. I was getting close, then a wave of hangry workers floods into the cafeteria and starts filling in every crevice. Body heat, sweat, clamoring, desperation- Leo starts tumbling about and reaching through my limbs.

_ N-NO! STOP! NOT NOW! _

Leo seeps through my fingertips and surrounds my entire body.  _ FuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUUUUCK!! _

A cold sweat breaks and my heart stops, I’m surrounded by Leo.

But no one else notices.

In fact, everyone seems to keep a small, but safe, distance from me, with or without them realizing it. I take a small step, people around shift away to check their phones or edge closer in line or take the nipping pain out of the back strap of their heel. I take another step, same reaction. Like a slug, I slowly make my way to the shop; I dip through the wooden arch and shuffle to my drink in a to-go cup waiting for me in the “Pick Up” line; the blonde girl from earlier darts her eyes at me then continues her next order, completely evading my questioning eyes and so rigid she shakes.

_ What did I do to her??? What the HELL did I do??? _

My face squinches and I snatch my drink from the counter, my heart aching and mind racing. I stare at the floor and stomp into the cafeteria and scan for an empty table out of my peripheral. The crowd subconsciously shifts out of my way until I plant myself at a tiny, two-person table on the almost opposite side of the LED illuminated, claustrophobic room.

***CRASH* *SHATTER*** “MR.STARK FORBID YOU FROM HERE AT THIS TIME, YOU KNOW THIS!”

“THAT’S WHY I’M RUNNING!”

***CLATTER*** “SORRY!”

The commotion edges even closer to me, but between all of the people and chatter, I can’t find anything, just a sudden rush of goosebumps across my skin on my right side and a headache pounding in the same direction. I slam my drinks and food on the table and grasp my head, the pounding  turning into hammering, painful electricity lighting up my head all the way down to my hips, the source of the pain a pinpoint of white, tense electricity. It gets deeper and deeper until my head splits open in sheer pain; I blindly grasp at my pocket, and in a few raging, agonizing slow moments, I get the small bottle, pour two pills in my hand, and gulp them down with a desperate slurp of smoothie. I gently drop the cup back down, tottering, and my shaking hands smooth my white hair back.

_ why why why… _

The pulsing headache quickly melts down to a sore throb, but the buzzing of my cells still remains from the shock.  ***CRASH*** Right next to me. I whip around. This time, there’s a bustle of people on my left dodging and avoiding  _ something _ , but I can’t see who...  ***THUNK*** I’m thrown off my barstool chair and  _ almost  _ onto the ground, but Leo keeps me from hitting it completely. Feeling the energy pulse, I use Leo to levitate me back up and into my chair. A boy with scruffy brown hair poking under a blue hoodie and sunglasses appears in front of me and turns around just as I sit back up. His mouth drops.  _ OhshitohshitOHSHIT _

“I-I-It’s not what it looks like…”  _ Really? That’s all I can think of? _

“Y-yeah, s-same…”  _ Wow this is some great commentary. _

A scared light bulb flicks on- I stand up and throw my finger at him and yell in astonishment, “WAIT! YOU’RE THAT KID THEY’RE LOOK-” His baby soft hand clasps over my mouth and he pushes my shoulder down into the seat again.

“SHH SHH SHH nonono don’t say anything!” He loudly hushes, ironically.

_ Well what the hell DO you want me to say???   _ “Oh, I’m sorry kid-who-broke-into-a-government-facility-and-threw-over-half-the-cafeteria-and-knocked-me-off-my-seat! What  _ would  _ you like me to say?” My straining green eyes bore down at him, anxiety kicking up and a nervous pit placed in my stomach. His mouth opens and closes over and over again and suddenly scrambles into the seat across from me.

“Kid? What do you mean kid? I’m probably older than you! A-and, uh, besides! I have clearance, I’m  _ allowed  _ to be in here…” A group of people jump nearby and four different security guards run through; the boy turns his back to them and takes my other smoothie and pretends to drink out of it until they pass by.

When they pass I snatch my drink back and my temper starts flooding to my cheeks. Leaning across the tiny table, I, in a hushed tone, call out, “HEY, that’s MINE! And I’m sixteen, by the way, and if you have clearance, then why are there  _ four  _ security guards chasing after you?”

He throws his hands up and defends, with a hefty voice crack, “I was only bOrrowing it! And I’m seventeen, so I’m older! And I had to come here to meet someone special, but they said she’s not ready yet and I could blow it, but-”

My heart skips a beat.  _ Could he be talking about? Were people told to avoid me, is that why that girl got so freaked when she saw him?? But who is he?  _ Color drains from my face and I stutter, “W-w-who is-s-s sh-sh-h-h-ee?”

_ Ok I know I stutter but what the fuck was that? I sound like a cheesy, boring character in some lame teenage girl’s fanfiction! _

He looks down at the table and fumbles with his hands. “I’m not supposed to say…”

_ Maybe it’s not me, if he knew of me, he probably would have been able to recognize me from my scars…  _ My heart twinges and a devastating scratching of guilt claws my stomach. “Oh… is it a friend? Girlfriend? Family member?”

His face  lifts up and his lip twinges a bit. “More like friend and future colleague, I hope…”

_ Aw, poor guy, he’s so sweet!!!  _ I lighten up and my heart melts; an infectious grin spreads across my face and he returns one, I place my hand on his and grab my extra smoothie and put it in front of him.  _ I’m sure Mr.Coulson will understand…  _ “Hey, why don’t you sit down and wait for the guards to calm down- you can drink my extra smoothie and we can talk until it’s safe for you to find her, and I’ll help out!”

He lifts his face up and it lightens up like a kid’s, not without a slight blush, and he lets out a goofy laugh- he sets his sunglasses on the table and, rich chocolate eyes shining, beams, “Tha-that would be amazing! Thank you so so much… My name’s Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.” He gives another (cute) smile and shakes my hand that was apparently still on his.  _ Oooh, last names, too! Fancy! But he looks a little bit familiar and Peter Parker rings a bell somewhere… I don’t know where, though...  _ Still shaking hands, I smile back, “I’m Crys Bird, and it’s my pleasure!”

And so for the rest of my lunch time, he and I sit and talk, I ended up sharing my food with him because he told me how he left school just to meet this girl and he didn’t have lunch because of it and that he usually doesn’t get to eat breakfast. We quickly get through our food and smoothies and start talking about school and what his is like and how I get to study, then about our interests and hobbies and favorite books. We’re in mid conversation about “Lord of the Rings” when my mini-watch (courtesy of S.H.I.E.L.D.) rapidly beeps: 2:20 pm. “O-oh, hold on a sec, shit… it’s 2:20, I gotta go to physical therapy…” We both stand up gathering trash and rambling, though incoherently, and end face to face right next to the table. “So, uh-”

“Yeah, I gotta-”

“I’ll see ya around-”

Peter lunges at me and sweeps all the trash into his left arm and sticks out his (slightly shaking) right hand. A blush staining his dimpled cheeks, he gathers himself and stands up straights and pushes his chest out, shoulders back. “It was nice to meet you, Crys, even with the guards coming by everyten minutes. I hope I see you soon.”  _ O-oh my… _ My chest pounds and I get a little  _ too  _ light; excited and bubbling blood rises to my cheeks and jolts my head to the side so he can’t see.

“It was nice meeting you, too Peter… I don’t have a phone at the moment, but I’ll be sure to ask Mr.Coulson about you so we can keep touch…”  We share another bashful eye gaze and I turn and start walking away. I get not three steps and he grabs my shoulder and whips me around, ghastly pallor:

“Crys Bird… Are you the new Avenger?”

…

…

…

Heart stopped. In throat. Face drains of color. Mouth dry.

“I-I’m sorry, what?”

My stomach collapses and heat grows, and Leo instinctively edges and crawls out of my skin, surrounding me in a thin layer of force field (?). His mouth drops and eyes widen, points his finger at me and yells, “YOU A-” People turn and stare, he brings it down to a loud, hushed whisper, “You are!!!” He must have seen the horror on my face because he immediately start stumbling and rambling, “Nono no-uh, i-it’s oK it’sok, because I KNOW, I’m Spiderman! Spiderman! You don’t have to be freaked out!”

_ So I  _ was  _ the girl he was looking for!!! _

Words catch in my throat and my muscles lock into place, forbidding any movement. He stands with his body twisted to me, expecting some sort of reaction, but when I’m too frozen to give one, he stammers out, “No-nah, I can prove it, watch this!” He sticks his arm to the table we were just sitting at and he shoots a web at it, sticking the barstool he was in to the table. He turns around expectandly, and although all my muscle remain in a death grip, my mouth can’t help but twitch a bit. This slight movement disabled my invisible lock and allowed me to comfortably shift back a little bit and, from the pit of my stomach, I laugh.

“I believe you, it’s ok…” I look into his eyes one more time and smile, “I have to go, but we’ll see each other again soon, ok?” He blushes and nods, looking away with a smile.  _ why is he SO cute ohmygoshhh.  _ I turn around and start walking away, skin crawling behind me, but I keep walking to the end of the cafeteria and up the staircase. When I reach the arches, I turn around to where my skin is crawling and I meet eyes with Peter again, on complete opposite sides of the room now. We simultaneously smile and nod, my heart now beating faster and faster by the second. I force myself to turn and walk through the doors and I do, but my heart turns into a slow burn that aches and will eventually leave a heated scar until I see him next...


End file.
